


The Stucky Sofa Fic

by peachb0mber



Category: Marvel
Genre: College AU, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 11:49:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7102039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachb0mber/pseuds/peachb0mber
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That's literally what it's called in my Google Drive.</p><p>Based off of this prompt from tumblr that I don't have the link for: curling up on the sofa together, feet tucked under thighs and arms around shoulders, watch the kind of crap tv that only airs at 3am because they don’t want to go to untangle themselves to go to bed"</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Stucky Sofa Fic

The ability to stay awake until three in the morning doesn’t surprise Bucky anymore. He’s had his fair share of insomnia and nightmares to keep him awake at night. What surprises him the most is how often Steve fights to keep his eyes from closing. He knows Steve, and he knows Steve usually knocks out when the clock strikes ten at the latest. He doesn’t know why Steve always tries so hard to stay awake on the nights they’re together.

They’re crammed onto Bucky’s tiny two-seat couch, limbs tangled in positions that shouldn’t be comfortable. Bucky’s wide awake, hyper aware of every point where their bodies touch, but he’s slack against the back of the couch, arm resting on the leg Steve’s thrown over his lap. Steve’s leaning on the arm of the couch, other foot planted on the floor between Bucky’s. He has one arm tucked behind his head, the other on his stomach, head turned to view the television.

Steve’s paying far more attention to the show on tv than Bucky is. It’s a terrible movie, Bucky can gather that much, and he makes a face when the main characters share a very forced and badly acted kiss. Steve cracks up laughing, and the sound brings a smile back to Bucky’s face.

“Man, Buck, if I ever kiss Sharon like that, please let me know.”

And the smile’s gone again. “You would know immediately.”

Steve’s eyes remain on the television, and Bucky’s immensely glad he can’t see the bitterness surely on the brunette’s face.

The movie continues, slow and obnoxiously heterosexual, and Bucky’s attention is fully redirected to Steve. He looks surreal in the light of the television, like Bucky’s fallen asleep and doesn’t realize he’s in a dream. His hair’s too blonde, eyes too blue, laughing without a care in the world. It takes him back to when they were young, before girls and school and “adult life.”

Bucky puts his hands behind his head so he doesn’t do something he’ll regret.

Fifteen minutes pass, and Bucky’s so immersed in his own head that he hardly registers Steve’s yawning. The sleepy eyed boy scoots down so his shoulders are against the couch’s arm, swinging his other leg up onto Bucky’s. The movement brings Bucky back to Earth and for a moment he’s annoyed before he realizes that now Steve’s moved closer. He tries not to think about it.

Steve flashes Bucky a tired grin when Bucky’s eyes focus. “Are you as tired as I am?”

Bucky scoffs. “Of course not, you old man. Wasn’t your bedtime like eight hours ago?”

“Oh come on! I don’t fall asleep that early...do I?’

“Yeah, pal, you do.”

Steve wiggles even farther down. His toes press against the opposite side of the couch, knees a little bit bent, both arms on his stomach. “Explains why Sharon called me a killjoy for ending our last date before the sun went down.”

“You’re such a lame boyfriend,” Bucky says, biting back the worst of what he wanted to say. He reminds himself that Steve’s awake with him, now, at three in the morning, when he couldn’t even stay out with Sharon past sunset. He feels a little fuzzy, and the anger ebbs.

“I object,” Steve says with an air of displeasure that doesn’t match his current position. “I’m a great boyfriend. I just get tired earlier than most people.”

“Then what the hell are you doing awake now?” It’s not meant to be a serious question, but Steve seems to take it seriously. Gone is the laughing boy from minutes before, replaced with someone who’s taking a surprising amount of time to answer.

“Well. You’re Bucky,” he says simply, shrugging.

Bucky blinks. “And you’re Steve. What game are we playing here?”

Steve leans up to shove Bucky’s shoulder, eliciting a laugh before thumping back against his pillow. “Shut up, you know what I mean.”

There’s a knot in Bucky’s stomach, of anticipation or anxiety or something else, he can’t tell. He plays dumb. “What am I, a mind reader? No shit I’m Bucky. What does that even mean?”

Steve groans, rolling his eyes. “You’re Bucky, you’re my best friend and the most important person in my life, blah blah, I wouldn’t be anything without you, et cetra et cetra. Better?”

It’s certainly nothing to get his hopes up about, but Bucky loves hearing the words anyway. He answers Steve with the most shit eating grin he can muster. “Yeah.”

Steve shakes his head, but Bucky sees the smile. “The point is, the least I can do is try to stick it out as long as possible. I know you stay up late, so I will too. What’s the point of a sleepover anyway?”

 _I know you stay up late, so I will too._ Bucky relishes the words, even with the ache in his chest that accompanies them. “God, Steve, don’t call it a sleepover like we’re teenage girls,” He says when he can find his voice. He leans over to Steve, ruffling his hair playfully. “Go to bed.”

Steve swats at his hand. Bucky resists the urge to grab his hand. “You’re not my mom.”

“I’m gonna call Sarah and tell her you’re not listening.”

Steve laughs. “We’re in college, Buck. I think I’m old enough to make my own decisions.” A yawn interrupts him halfway through, but he powers through it to get his sentence out.

“Well, I’m going to sleep,” Bucky says, making a move to get up. Steve’s feet dig between the cushion and the couch arm, forming a makeshift prison over Bucky’s legs.

“One, that’s a lie, you’re not the least bit tired,” Steve replies, holding up a finger that then turns into two. “Two, you’re not going anywhere because I’m not moving.”

“Oh my god. Why are we friends?”

Steve grins, perfect teeth all but sparkling. “Because you love me.”

Bucky snorts because Steve doesn’t know the half of it. “Sure, Rogers. Go to sleep.” He pulls a blanket from the back of the couch and throws it over Steve’s face.

Steve spreads the blanket out over both of them, pulling it up to his chin. He smiles at Bucky.

Bucky smiles back, no negativity marring this one. “G’night.”

Steve is out like a light almost instantly, light snoring mixing with the faint volume of the tv. Bucky remains awake, head spinning and heart heavy, for almost two more hours before he finally passes out.

Steve wakes at the crack of dawn, blurry-eyed and with an ache in his head due to lack of sleep. Squashed between his arm and the couch lies Bucky, head in the crook of his elbow, other hand resting on Steve’s arm. There’s no grip, no tension on his face, nothing to indicate he’s having a nightmare. He’s sleeping peacefully, much to Steve’s relief. The bags under Bucky’s eyes seem to get darker every day. He’s glad that Bucky can sleep, even for a short time.

He brings his hand up to hesitantly cover Bucky’s, afraid to wake him and maybe afraid of something else. Bucky doesn’t stir outside of a relaxed sigh in his sleep. Steve has no problems falling back asleep.


End file.
